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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29041425">The Other Woman</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pointsweremade/pseuds/pointsweremade'>pointsweremade</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Song-Inspired Fics [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adultery, Based on a Lana Del Rey Song, Canon Compliant, Cheating, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, M/M, Mental Instability, Not Beta Read, Post-Canon, Post-Time Skip, Unhealthy Relationships, this ran away from me sorry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:34:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,491</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29041425</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pointsweremade/pseuds/pointsweremade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Shōyō's worst nightmare as told by Lana Del Rey's<em> The Other Woman.</em></p><p>~</p><p>  <em> Shōyō doesn’t know when this hatred turned into love, doesn’t know when it progressed to something more. And it’s ruining him. </em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru, Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Song-Inspired Fics [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130594</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Other Woman</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone and so I finished this in literally two hours. It's not beta read so hopefully there isn't too many mistakes, but I literally stayed up to write this and I have to be up in 4 hours so hope it's good!</p><p>Edit 26/02: updates tags to better reflect the content of the story. Obviously, some trigger warnings do apply. The eating disorder does involve bulimic-like symptoms, so please be wary.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The other woman has time to manicure her nails</em>
</p><p>---</p><p>Shōyō knows who it is the moment Tōru unwittingly takes his shirt off, back turned to his husband as he undresses after practice. He’s had an inkling for a little while, excuses not matching and actions out of place, but the moment he sees the nail marks down the older man’s back – evenly red and uniform in size, clearly left by perfectly manicured nails, unlike the jagged crimson scratches his own bitten down ones leave – all his suspicions are confirmed.</p><p>It doesn’t help that once, a long time ago, when he was barely pubescent, a questioning fifteen year old exploring his body and another’s, he also experienced those nails dragging down his pale skin.</p><p>He barely remembers it, nearing two decades since it happened, but he remembers those nails. He remembers how the setter they belong to was obsessed with polished cuticles and trimmed nails – and he remembers how the setter they belong to <em>still </em>obsesses over the meticulousness of a perfect manicure.</p><p>He knows all this. Knows it as he stares at his husband’s bare back, slowly disappearing under the sleep shirt he’s pulling on. Knows it as said husband pulls him in for a searing kiss, pulling him in before pulling him apart, legs spread and heat inside. He knows it as Tōru sleeps deep, cradling Shōyō’s head, unaware of the cogs turning in the younger man’s head all night long.</p><p>Shōyō knows with every fibre in his body that Tōru and Tobio are sleeping together. He just can’t figure out why.</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em>The other woman is perfect where her rival fails</em>
</p><p>---</p><p>He won’t lie, Shōyō’s always compared himself to Tobio – ever since that fateful middle school match. He can’t help himself, the raven-haired setter had everything Shōyō didn’t – height, talent, good looks.</p><p>He was perfect in every way Shōyō wasn’t, and their <em>rivalry</em> (a farce since the beginning, how could one be rivals with the one person they had to depend on to even advance the <em>slightest bit</em> in their passion?) only exposed this further, shone a light so bright that Shōyō ran to the other hemisphere to get away from it.</p><p>But there was one thing Shōyō had always had that Tobio didn’t.</p><p>And now he didn’t even have that over the taller man.</p><p>He sits across the table from the man, sipping his coffee as the setter tells him of his latest adventure in Germany, playing some exhibition matches with the European teams to raise money for charity.</p><p><em>God,</em> Shōyō <em>loathes</em> him.</p><p>Tōru was there too, playing for a Spanish team, his years in Argentina making any language barrier negligible. And Shōyō knows, with every bone in his body, that the two had seen one another.</p><p>And when Tobio moves his head just a little too much to the right, he sees all the proof he needs.</p><p>“Had a bit of fun while you were there?” Shōyō interrupts, not having been listening in the first place. At Tobio’s confused expression, he points to the man’s collarbone where a deep purple mark rests just at the edge of his t-shirt.</p><p>Tobio, to his credit, flushes brightly and tries to stammer out an excuse – forgoing that the hickey was left by the ginger man’s husband, of course. But it’s lost on Shōyō, who can only see that Tobio – despite knowing the hickey was there, knowing it was left by Shōyō’s husband, knowing he was seeing Shōyō today – still chose to wear a top that could easily expose the mark.</p><p>Tobio, not unlike his natural talent at being a perfect setter, is also a perfective seductress, apparently.</p><p>It takes everything in Shōyō to not leap across the table that very second.</p><p>---</p><p>
  <em>And she’s never seen with pin curls in her hair, anywhere.</em>
</p><p>---</p><p>He stands at the sink, glaring at the red wine that stains his shirt. It wasn’t even his fault, some drunkard had knocked into him, too excited with the prospect of dancing to care about where they were walking.</p><p>He gets it, it’s the wedding of Kōtarō and Keiji, and the reception saw the reunion of nearly every volleyball player from Shōyō’s first year of high school. But that doesn’t mean his shirt has to be the fucking <em>victim</em>.</p><p>He takes a moment to spare a glance at his hair, wild and unruly despite his best efforts to tame it. He was a mess leaving the house, half ready and half frazzled, but he couldn’t find it in him to care, not when Tōru was showering him with compliments, kissing every exposed inch of skin and smothering Shōyō in a love he isn’t sure is exclusively his anymore.</p><p>His thoughts are interrupted by the very appearance of the reason for his constant misery, strutting in and reminding him of just how regretful he is that he didn’t spend the extra ten minutes to clean himself up before leaving the house.</p><p>Tobio’s wearing all black, a sleek suit that matches his hair and brings out the colour of his eyes. He’s eye-catching this evening and <em>everyone</em> knows it. The amount of compliments this man has received from everyone would be enough to make anyone blush, and Shōyō is sure the enamel of his molars has been completely worn down from just how intense he’s grinded his teeth this evening.</p><p>They stare at each other in the mirror for a second before Tobio rubs the back of his head and coughs lightly. “You look… really nice this evening,” he says awkwardly.</p><p><em>Liar</em>.</p><p>Shōyō just smiles, big and bright like he’s become accustomed to faking in front of others, and laughs a tad too loud. “Still find it hard to compliment me, <em>Tobi</em>?” Shōyō is somehow simultaneously thrilled and miserable by the flinch Tobio does at the utter of the nickname.</p><p>Shōyō strolls out without another word, too tired and pissed off to play nice with his supposed <em>friend</em> – and his husband’s fucking<em> mistress</em>.</p><p>He walks into the reception hall and is immediately snatched around the waist, pulled into the chest of said husband, who starts swaying the two of them despite his protests.</p><p>“Tōru!” He complains, trying unsuccessfully to pull away. “You’re going to get your shirt stained, too! Let’s just leave, I feel gross.”</p><p>Tōru just laughs, light and airy, before looking at Shōyō with eyes that leave no room for argument. “You look as beautiful as I’ve ever seen. You’re always so stunning, love.”</p><p>Shōyō stutters and quiets down, letting his husband whisk him around the room, basking in the conviction of his affection.</p><p>But as they twirl around the room, Shōyō can’t help but notice the few times Tōru’s eyes stray. And when he steals a glance to the direction, all he sees his Tobio standing there, watching the two – watching<em> Tōru</em> – with such an intense look that he almost startles.</p><p>Shōyō is forced to have the front row seat of his husband and his friend undressing each other with their eyes and he can only think one word.</p><p><em>Liar</em>.</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The other woman enchants her clothes with French perfume</em>
</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>Tōru’s become lazy in his deceit.</p><p>He comes home, smelling distinctly different to how he did when he left the house that morning. And Shōyō recognises the scent, clear as day. He’d associated it with the club room in high school, and then the hotel bathroom when they’d visited Brazil with Kei, and then the National Team’s changing rooms. He’d associated it with Tobio because it’s the same cologne he’s worn since Shōyō’s known him.</p><p>And now he associates it with his marriage. He associates it with arms wrapping around his waist from behind, a chin resting on his shoulder as he cooks them dinner for the night. He associates it with the time they take every Sunday night to watch their TV show together, tangled in with one another on their well-loved couch despite Tōru being off with another man that very day.</p><p>He associates it with Tōru pushing inside him, singing him praises as he thrusts and bucks. He associates it with Tōru leaving him hickeys, not unlike the very ones he gives Tobio. He associates it with Tōru whispering sweet nothings into his ear, mistaking his tears of sadness as tears of joy as he continues to make sweet, painful love to him.</p><p>Shōyō now associates the very man he despises with every complexity of his life.</p><p>He wants to scream until his voice is hoarse, to throw dinnerware until his hand is covered in red, to cry until his eyes are dry.</p><p>Instead, he simply turns back to his husband, still clinging to his back, humming at the curry Shōyō has just spent the last hour cooking for his adulterous husband, and smiles brightly at him.</p><p>“Did you change your cologne?”</p><p>He hates how he feels no joy from the flinch Tōru gives as he pulls away.</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The other woman keeps fresh cut flowers in each room</em>
</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>It’s bordering ridiculous now.</p><p>Kei and Tadashi have told him time and again that he needs to just confront the two, but he just can’t find it in himself to do it. He’s pitiful, he knows this, but despite the torment the two have put him through, he can’t help but freeze when he thinks of life without them.</p><p>Tobio, his first partner, has begrudgingly helped to shape him into the man he is today. Shōyō knows that, beneath the abhorrence he holds for the man, the remnants of their friendship still remains.</p><p>Tōru, his <em>life</em> partner, has watched firsthand as he blossomed from an awkward teenager to the confident adult he is today. Halfway across the world, the two grew so intertwined that Shōyō doesn’t know for sure where he ends and Tōru begins.</p><p>Kei and Tadashi tell him that he’s lingering too much on the past and he needs to face the present, accept the reality that is occurring <em>right now</em>, but Shōyō’s always been emotional, always been sentimental – a cheating husband and scumbag of a best friend won’t change that anytime soon.</p><p>But as he sits there in Tobio’s living room, Kei and Tadashi sitting on the ground with him around the coffee table as Hitoka and Tobio take up the two armchairs, he can’t help all the dread that overtakes him as he looks at the flowers in front of him.</p><p>Oriental lilies.</p><p>Just two days ago, Tōru had returned home from <em>somewhere</em>, arm hidden behind his back. He didn’t smell of Tobio’s cologne that day, so Shōyō had instantly relaxed, instead choosing to question his husband as to just <em>what</em> he was hiding behind him. After a quick skirmish around the dinner table, the man had pulled an oriental lily from behind his back, his favourite flower.</p><p>Shōyō had been enamoured, immediately launching himself at his husband, letting himself be bent of the table and taken right then and there.</p><p>But now, staring at the bouquet of oriental lilies that sit on the table before him, mocking him in their abundance, all he feels is disgust.</p><p>He’d been given a single flower.</p><p>Tobio had been given the rest of the bouquet.</p><p>He feels putrid, feels the bile running up his throat before he can stop himself. He clutches a hand to his stomach and a hand over his mouth as he pushes away from the table, sprinting to the kitchen in time to release the contents of his stomach into the sink.</p><p>The rest follow quickly, worriedly asking after his health. He turns on the tap, gargling some water and spitting it out before turning to the group. Concern sits in all their eyes, but he rests his own on Tobio, stares deep into the cobalt blue that reflects nothing but worry for the ginger man.</p><p>“Shō, are you okay?” He hears Tadashi ask, but the words are fuzzy, distant and clouded by the intense focus he has on the setter.</p><p>He smiles slightly. “Yeah,” he says, chuckling lightly. “You know, oriental lilies are my favourite flower.”</p><p>He pretends he doesn’t see the flinch that the other four give as he speaks.</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And when her old man comes to call</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He finds her waiting like a lonesome queen</em>
</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>The thing is, Shōyō still doesn’t understand <em>why</em> it happened, even though it’s been months since he figured it out.</p><p>Tōru has always <em>hated</em> Tobio, <em>despised</em> his very existence. Naturally gifted with a talent that allowed him to excel in ways Tōru could only dream of. Tobio had everything Tōru didn’t.</p><p><em>King of the Court</em>, so unyielding in his rule that he’d stood alone on the court by the time he started high school. An uncompromising presence that took years to learn how to properly connect with a team. Tōru had everything Tobio didn’t.</p><p>Both setters have explained in detail the incident of Tōru almost hitting him in middle school and every time the mere <em>mention</em> of the raven-haired man was made in South America, the brunette would clam up, a glare so intense Shōyō would almost physically recoil would appear on his face.</p><p>Shōyō doesn’t know when this hatred turned into love, doesn’t know when it progressed to something more. And it’s ruining him.</p><p>According to his doctor’s advice, he’s taken the rest of the season off. For the past month, he’s been throwing up near every day, unable to keep the lightest bit of food down. He hates to admit that he’s been admitted into the hospital more than once since it began.</p><p>He hates that after collapsing one too many times they admitted him indefinitely.</p><p>Every test has been done, every scan analysed, but the doctor’s still can’t find what’s wrong with him. He worsens every day; the only exception was the day the nurses told Tōru to stop bringing him oriental lilies. They’d noticed that Shōyō’s vomiting would increase two-fold every time his clueless husband would bring them in, and so banned the flower from entering his room.</p><p>He’s silently thankful for their keen observations.</p><p>But still, Shōyō is not getting better and with everyday he’s away from the court, the more he sinks into a depression. It kills him even more when Tōru comes in one day with the news that he’s made the National Team. Shōyō knows Tobio made it too, Kei had told him just that morning when he’d visited.</p><p>He immediately turns to the side, grimacing at the sting of bile rushing up his throat, raw and sensitive from the past month. Tōru gasps, running to his bedside to gently caress his back, pulling his sweaty hair from his face as he splutters the last bit of liquid from his mouth.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Shō,” Tōru whispers later, lying down next to him on the hospital bed. Shōyō has his head cradled on his husband’s chest, while long slim fingers play with his hair. He’d tried to protest, claiming it would be gross for the older man, but Tōru had just laughed and said, with so much emotion Shōyō knew it wasn’t a lie, that <em>nothing about you could ever put me off</em>. “I should’ve been more sensitive about the matter.”</p><p>Shōyō shakes his head minutely. “No, Tōru. This is big news, don’t let what’s happening to me damper this for you. I’m so happy,” he looks up at chocolate brown eyes, can feel tears stinging his own hazel ones. He doesn’t know if they’re from joy or despair. “Congratulations, Tōru.”</p><p>Tōru looks conflicted, eyes flicking back and forth to study Shōyō’s face before he brings his hands up to cup his cheeks. “Shōyō, whatever happens to me happens to you – and <em>vice versa</em>,” he whispers fervently, a slightly manic look taking over his face. Shōyō’s confused, wondering where the urgency has come from. “It kills me every day to see you not getting better. I’m not letting this <em>damper</em> me; I’m experiencing <em>my husband</em> slowly dying for a reason modern medicine can’t explain.” Shōyō’s eyes blow wide, shocked into a frozen state by the weight of Tōru’s words.</p><p>His husband rubs his thumb over his cheek, eyes brimming with tears as he continues. “You are my world, Shō. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don’t know <em>how</em> I’d be without you.”</p><p>Tears stained both their cheeks now, running freely from their eyes as they wallow in the severity of the situation.</p><p>Tōru leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his own chapped lips, but it’s perfect in every way. All the love and adoration his husband is trying to convey comes out with just the gentle brush of their lips, and for once Shōyō is not reminded of Tobio. The man never even comes to mind.</p><p>Because it’s just him and Tōru here, the world has fallen away and with it so has his troubles.</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>
  <em>‘Cause to be by her side</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s such a change from old routine</em>
</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>He gets better slowly. His vomiting is infrequent now, only once a day compared to the near ten times it was at its peak. He’s still severely malnourished, body gangly and angular, bones jutting from joints, flesh barely there, so he remains in hospital until he reaches a healthy weight and stays there for at least a month.</p><p>It’s a long road to recovery, but as the days go by, Shōyō has found a new hope to aid in his revival.</p><p>Tōru visits twice every weekday – in the morning before training and in the afternoon after it – and stays from Friday night to Monday morning. In this time, he’s become more comfortable with the idea of sharing his day with Shōyō. At first, when Shōyō was at his worst, Tōru wouldn’t even dare speak a word about volleyball, or anything related to it. Which is hard, considering that both of their lives revolve around it, but he’d thought that reminding Shōyō of his one passion that he’s been forced to temporarily step away from would do more harm than good.</p><p>After their talk the day of him joining the National Team, he’d slowly become accustomed to telling Shōyō about the shenanigans that would occur. He’d tell him of Kōtarō’s accidents and Morisuke’s scalding, of Kiyoomi’s disgust and Motoya’s amusement.</p><p>He tells him of Tobio.</p><p>But it shocks him, the way his husband speaks of the other setter. Once upon a time, the man would barely acknowledge him, and when forced to would basically <em>spit</em> the words out, as if they were poison on his tongue. Two months ago, Shōyō was convinced – to the point of <em>near death</em> – that if asked about Tobio, his husband would have nothing but praises, that he’d sing of the other man’s brilliance until the cow’s came home.</p><p>Now, he sits there as his husband offers comments so bland, Shōyō wonders if he made the entire affair up. It’s not like Tōru avoids talking of him, he’ll mention him when needed or when prompted by Shōyō, but each and every time he talks about the other setter, the boredom reads clear as day on his face.</p><p>He’d always thought that, when Tobio would be brought up, Tōru would be a nervous mess, both frightened at Shōyō finding out and wistful in his thoughts of the other man. His husband doesn’t know how to hide his emotions, and even if he did, Shōyō is more than confident in his ability to read people.</p><p>So why does Tōru regard Tobio in such an <em>apathetic</em> way?</p><p>It hits Shōyō one day, as he sits in the hospital cafeteria with Kenma and Keiji, discussing this and that. Kenma, of course, knows every miniscule detail of the affair, and has diligently updated Shōyō on the whereabouts of Tobio and Tōru during his stay in hospital. Oddly enough, Kenma hasn’t noticed <em>anything</em> out of the ordinary from the two, but it puts Shōyō at ease anyway.</p><p>Keiji, however, knows nothing of Shōyō’s emotional predicament. So, imagine his surprise when the ex-setter says that day, “Kōtarō said Kageyama and Oikawa fought the other day.”</p><p>Shōyō tenses immediately – one, because he hasn’t heard of this, and two, because he’s worried about what followed after the fight.</p><p>Keiji continues, either not noticing or not caring of Shōyō’s inner turmoil (he hopes it’s the former). “Apparently, Kageyama had tried to pull Oikawa aside after practice a couple days ago. And Oikawa <em>lost it</em>.” Shōyō’s eyes widen. He’d not heard of that, not when Atsumu had come to visit yesterday, and <em>definitely</em> not when Tōru had been here over the weekend. “The other’s had to pull them apart, but Kōtarō said Oikawa started crying and said <em>I told you what I thought two months ago</em> and left without another word.”</p><p>Two months ago? What happened two months ago? All Shōyō knows is that that’s when he’d gotten sick, but he’d thought that nothing had changed between the other. two.</p><p>What is he missing, being stuck in this hospital all day? What is he missing of his husband’s affair? It dawns on him quickly, forcing a gasp to leave his body before he can stop himself.</p><p>Keiji looks over at him with wary eyes. “Did you… not know?” At Shōyō’s head shake, he instantly apologises, but Shōyō waves him off, a slight smile coming to his face.</p><p>“Shōyō?” Kenma asks. “What’s up?”</p><p>“What’s the opposite of love?” Shōyō asks instead of answering, looking between his two friends as they look back in confusion. “Well?”</p><p>“Uh, hatred I guess.” Keiji answers. And you’d forgive him for thinking that because Shōyō had until this very moment, too. They’re told their whole lives, hatred and love are opposites. But both require passion and effort and thought – both require a commitment that isn’t unlike the other. No, hatred and love are <em>not</em> opposites.</p><p>“Wrong,” he whispers, a near silent giggle leaving his lips as he smiles brightly – brighter than he has in months. “It’s <em>apathy</em>.”</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But the other woman will always cry herself to sleep</em>
</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>“Tobio.”</p><p>He jumps in his seat slightly before turning around just in time to see Shōyō walk down between the tables. He unceremoniously takes a seat across from the setter, he doesn’t attempt to hide the shock from his face.</p><p>“Shōyō!” Tobio says in what he must think is gleeful surprise, but only comes across as desperate shock. “I thought you’d only been discharged a few days ago, shouldn’t you be at home resting still?” He chuckles nervously, but it dies out as Shōyō continues to stare, boring into blue eyes, unwilling to look away. Tobio breaks first, looking down at the table to escape the amber eyes that seem to peer into his very soul. “How did you find me?”</p><p>Shōyō remains quiet for another few moments before resting his elbow on the table and leaning forward to place his chin on his open palm. “Lacking a bit of fun, are we?” He asks in lieu of an answer.</p><p>“What?” Tobio asks, daring a glance up to express his confusion.</p><p>Shōyō taps his own collarbone, making the taller man bring a hand up to rub at his. “No new marks. Did you get bored? Or did you get <em>boring</em>?”</p><p>“What does that-”</p><p>Tobio stills his hand from where it rubs against his skin, but Shōyō grabs it to inspect it closely, cutting him off as he does so. “You’re nails look as perfect as ever,” he comments offhand. “You know, I remember these nails so well,” he lies easily. “When we were still young and inexperienced and you’d drag these nails <em>all over my skin</em>-” Tobio yanks his hand back as if he’s been burned, eyes widening in what Shōyō can only describe as fear.</p><p>“Tell me <em>Tobi</em>, have you been getting any more of those lilies? You know, the ones I <em>love</em> so much?”</p><p>“Shō, <em>what</em> is going-”</p><p>“Tell me Kageyama,” Shōyō interrupts, glare setting his body ablaze, piercing through Tobio and exposing him until his entire being has been burned. “Did you fuck Tōru or did Tōru fuck you?”</p><p>Tobio gaps, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. Shōyō can see in his eyes, the same inkling he’d had for months prior to confirming, that Tobio had suspected that Shōyō knew, had thought that there was a possibility of them already being discovered. But Shōyō can also see the repulsion he feels at being left so vulnerable from the truth.</p><p>Shōyō can read people, what can he say.</p><p>“How did- I-” Tobio stutters, unsure of where to go from there. “Shōyō, I’m so <em>sorry</em>. It was- I… <em>please</em>-”</p><p>“Save it,” Shōyō clips, rolling his eyes as he leans back and crosses his arms. “You’re not sorry Tobio. If you were, you wouldn’t have slept with my husband.” He leans forward again, getting as close into the other’s space as he possibly can. “You’re a homewrecking <em>slut</em> and you’ve got nothing to show for it.”</p><p>Tobio gapes, unsure of how to counter the accusations Shōyō’s thrown at him. Eventually, after a few seconds and countless emotions crossing his face, he seems to settle on anger.</p><p><em>Good</em>, Shōyō thinks, <em>I need to release some of my own</em>.</p><p>“You can’t just blame this on me, Shōyō,” he argues, spitting the words out. “It wasn’t even me who-”</p><p>“Started it, I know,” Shōyō interrupts, to the disbelief of Tobio. He rolls his eyes again. “You think I don’t know every little detail about your fucking affair? You think I didn’t know. Guess what, Tobio,” Shōyō’s seething now, speaking between clenched teeth and a sharp tongue. The words are venomous, deadly and resolute. “He may have fucked you, but he came home to<em> me</em>. He loves <em>me</em>, he married<em> me</em>. <em>You </em>are <em>nothing</em>, a removable stain on our life.”</p><p>Tobio growls then, eyes wild and face red with anger. He stands abruptly, knocking his chair over in an attempt to invade Shōyō’s space. “You know <em>nothing</em> – <em>nothing</em>. You weren’t there when we kissed, you weren’t there when he gave me those hickeys, you weren’t there when we <em>fucked</em>.” Tobio laughs, just slightly maniacal in its tone. “He’s meeting me today; did you know that? <em>Huh</em>?” Shōyō feigns surprise, causing Tobio to smirk. “That’s why I’m here right now. I’m going to <em>fuck your husband</em>, Shōyō.”</p><p>The last sentence makes Shōyō genuinely pale for a second, memories of before he was sick conjuring up bad thoughts. He wills them away at Tobio’s laughter, not wanting him to have the upper hand. Shōyō, for all his uncertainty these past six months, has never been more confident of something in his life.</p><p>“How does it feel, huh?” Tobio taunts, eyes wide and full of twisted glee. “To be married to a man who’s fucked your best friend?”</p><p>Shōyō stands slowly, eyes never leaving Tobio’s. “I don’t know,” Shōyō says. He leaves out that Tobio can’t possibly be his friend now, that whatever happened this past year has negated two decades worth of friendship. Instead, he smiles lightly, knows that the anger is making him a little more twisted, too. “How does it feel to be in love with a man who only sees you as a warm flesh light?”</p><p>He hears it before he feels it, a sharp slap of Tobio’s palm striking his cheek. It stings brutally, but Shōyō doesn’t care. He relishes in it, relishes in how he’s made the other man lose control.</p><p>He looks back, eyes as wild as ever, and Tobio must see something <em>feral</em> because he flinches back, his own eyes now guarded and unsure.</p><p>Shōyō continues to stare as he pulls his phone from his pocket, dialling the number he knows by heart.</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The other woman will never have his love to keep</em>
</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>“Tōru,” Shōyō says once his husband picks up, putting the phone on speaker. Tobio’s eyes widen as he looks on, but he doesn’t make a move forward, stuck in place by the threat the ginger holds in his eyes.</p><p>
  <em>“What’s up, love?”</em>
</p><p>“Just wondering what you’d like for dinner,” Shōyō says nonchalantly. As if he’s not seated across from his husband’s mistress, from his former best friend, from the person who just slapped him.</p><p><em>“Shō,”</em> Tōru says over the phone, disapproving tone in his voice. <em>“You know you shouldn’t be moving around too much.”</em></p><p>Shōyō laughs, “I know, I know! But I’m bored and I wanted to do something nice for you.”</p><p>Tobio looks on, confusion etched onto his face. He’s clueless, doesn’t understand what is going on, but despite Shōyō’s airy voice to his husband, his eyes remain sharp, warning him not to move.</p><p>
  <em>“Baby, I’ll bring you something from our favourite place. Please, just rest.”</em>
</p><p>Shōyō sighs deeply, but a twinkle in his eyes tells Tobio that this is what he wanted. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you when you get back later tonight. I love you, Tōru.”</p><p>Silence meets him for the next few seconds and Tobio begins to think that Shōyō’s plan his backfired, that all the words he’s just spoken was nothing but talk. But then a cruel smile plays on Shōyō’s face as his amber eyes begin to blaze once again.</p><p>And then, before Tobio can register what’s changed, Tōru speaks.</p><p>
  <em>“I’m coming home right now.”</em>
</p><p>Tobio’s eyes widen as Shōyō silently laughs. “What?” He asks with a false incredulous tone. “Tōru, you’re busy today! You can’t just drop everything to come home.”</p><p>
  <em>“Nothing is more important than you, Shō. Never has been and never will be. I’ll be home in thirty minutes.”</em>
</p><p>The call ends as Tobio slumps down into the seat next to Shōyō, who remains standing. He looks up at the ginger, finding all traces of fire gone. In its place is ice, freezing over and clamming Tobio up in the worst way possible.</p><p>“Did you see, Tobio?” He taunts, voice cold and distant. Tobio knows this is the end. “I don’t have to beg; I don’t have to whine. Tōru will choose me over you any day – every day. <em>You</em> were something new, something exciting. <em>I’m</em> the love of his life. I trump you. <em>Every. Single. Time</em>.”</p><p>Tobio doesn’t say anything as Shōyō moves to leave, doesn’t look away from the spot at which he had stood.</p><p>Tobio has lost his closest friend and the love of his life in one fell swoop.</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And as the years go by the other woman</em>
</p><p>
  <em>will spend her life alone</em>
</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>It takes another couple of years for Tōru to admit to the affair. They’re on a holiday in Europe, resting in their lodge in the Alps when he brings it up to Shōyō. He’s scared, <em>petrified</em> of having his husband leave him, but he knows that it’s the right thing to do and he needs to give Shōyō the chance to leave.</p><p>Shōyō knows that Tobio has disappeared off the face of the earth. After the season that Shōyō wasn’t able to finish, the setter had quit volleyball and moved back home. Kenma sends him updates every now and then, and the last they’d heard of him he worked at a children’s recreation centre in a mountain town.</p><p>Shōyō also knows that Tōru hasn’t missed the other setter since his disappearance. In fact, he didn’t even <em>know</em> about it until six months ago.</p><p>(<em>“Shō, did you hear about Kageyama?” Tōru asks, incredulous tone in his voice.</em></p><p>
  <em>“No, what happened?” Shōyō fakes innocence.</em>
</p><p><em>“He just up and quit volleyball and disappeared.” There’s a moment of silence and then Tōru shrugs. “Well, I’ve always said he wasn’t right in the head.”</em>)</p><p>So when Tōru tells him of the affair, pleads his guilt but also his apologies, empathises his understanding but also prays his forgiveness, all Shōyō does is shush him, cupping his husband’s face with his hands.</p><p>He smiles sweetly at him, let’s Tōru know that his guilt is acknowledged, but his forgiveness granted, and kisses his forehead. As if a blessing from a deity, Tōru closes his eyes and leans into the kiss, whispering his thanks and his apologies in one breath</p><p>Between his words, Shōyō sees the devotion to him, sees Tōru’s desperate need for Shōyō’s love, witness his yearning to be loved and accepted, to apologise for eternity and be forgiven in return.</p><p>“I love you, Tōru,” he whispers against his husbands forehead. He sees in Tōru a hysterical need for Shōyō, and he takes it willingly, knows that he’s slowly built up to this moment. Knows that this is what <em>he</em> needs as well, pure and frenetic devotion towards himself from the love of his life. “And you will always be mine.”</p><p>“Of course, Shōyō,” Tōru whispers as he brings his lips up to push against his husband’s. “Of course, of course, of course, <em>of course</em>-”</p><p>Shōyō cuts him off, kissing rough and hard, inhaling the fevered way in which Tōru expresses his love, the manic way in which Tōru expresses his devotion.</p><p>Oikawa Shōyō kisses him, knowing Oikawa Tōru is his in mind, body and soul.</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Alone</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Alone</em>
</p><p>
  <em>---</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A few things:</p><p>1. I do not condone cheating of any kind. This is a self-indulgent piece that I wrote when I was feeling very overwhelmed. I’d like to make it clear that obviously Kageyama wrongfully had the sole blame put onto him and obviously Hinata is not mentally stable by the end of the story. Oikawa, although he does get forgiven by Hinata in the end, is kept in the relationship post-story by Hinata guilting him continuously. It’s a toxic dynamic that I hope I’ve hinted to well enough in that little ending bit. </p><p>2. If it’s not clear from Kageyama’s and Oikawa’s fight that Akaashi tells Hinata about, Oikawa broke off his affair with Kageyama two months ago (I hc that he did it the day he got him the flowers and that he gave them to Kageyama as a “sorry, you were just a hate fuck, here’s a consolation”. Very shitty of Oikawa.)</p><p>3. Kageyama is “the other woman” because I superficially connected some things related to him in canon (filing his nails, being ‘rivals’ with Hinata, ‘King of the Court’) to the lyrics of the song. Please don’t read too deep into why I chose him to be the antagonist.</p><p>Anyway, hope you liked this! I have a few more song fics I want to do, so I might put another one out soon-ish!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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